


That's Who I'd Be

by innocent_until_proven_geeky



Series: Kit Fisto's Apprentice [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aspect goes on an adventure, Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, and when he comes back everything has gone to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innocent_until_proven_geeky/pseuds/innocent_until_proven_geeky
Summary: The story of Aspect's promotion from Sergeant to Captain (yes, he did skip Lieutenant, thank you for noticing).
Relationships: Original Clone Character(s) & Kit Fisto, Original Clone Character(s) & Original Jedi Character(s), Original Jedi Character(s) & Kit Fisto, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Kit Fisto's Apprentice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580440
Kudos: 4





	That's Who I'd Be

**Author's Note:**

> _I guess I’d be a hero_
> 
> _With sword and armor clashing_
> 
> _Looking semi-dashing_
> 
> _A shield within my grip_
> 
> _Or else I’d be a viking_
> 
> _And live a life of daring_
> 
> _While smelling like a herring_
> 
> _Upon a viking ship_
> 
> _I’d sail away, I’d see the world_
> 
> _I’d reach the farthest reaches_
> 
> _I’d feel the wind, I’d taste the salt and sea_
> 
> _And maybe storm some beaches_
> 
> _That’s who I’d be_
> 
> _Or I could be a poet_
> 
> _And write a different story_
> 
> _One that tells of glory_
> 
> _And wipes away the lies_
> 
> _And to the skies I’d throw it_
> 
> _The stars would do the telling_
> 
> _The moon would help with spelling_
> 
> _And night would dot the I’s_
> 
> _I’d write my verse, recite a joke_
> 
> _It’d fit in perfect timing_
> 
> _I’d share my heart, confess the things I yearn_
> 
> _And do it all while rhyming_
> 
> _But we all learn_
> 
> _So yes, I’d be a hero_
> 
> _And if my wish were granted_
> 
> _Life would be enchanted_
> 
> _Or so the stories say_
> 
> "Who I'd Be" from Shrek the Musical

Aspect never wanted to be a soldier. He didn’t really have a choice, being a clone, but he had never wanted it the way some of his brothers did.

They didn’t want it because they were violent. They wanted it because their personalities were suited to it.

Aspect’s wasn’t. He was too sweet, too tender, too gentle. Not enough for the Kaminoans to notice; the longnecks would never have let him survive if they had. Oh, all the clones knew that “decommissioned” was just a code word for dead, and he would absolutely have been decommissioned if the aiwha-bait knew. But he was too _soft_. He’d never wanted to be a soldier, never felt like it suited him.

It suited Slugger and Rex. His batchmates were both captains, serving under a Jedi general-Padawan commander pair. It wasn’t often that two men from the same batch became captains, but the batch had been split in half shortly after the First Battle of Geonosis. And Slugger and Rex--they were the best. They were strong leaders, and they weren’t _soft_ like Aspect was.

His other _vode_ , well, they were like that, too, but hadn’t proven themselves leaders yet, and they were okay with that.

But Aspect didn’t want to be on the battlefield. No one wanted to watch their brothers die, but it seemed like it took him longer to bounce back every time.

And, anyway, the other clones had their strengths outside of the battlefield. Nexus was the best cook in the systems army, or at least he said so, and Tag’onk and Blondie both painted each others’ armor with little visuals of their missions. Ink did the 82nd Battalion’s tattoos, every single one, and Tally was good at math and strategy. Blue had a little garden going in the barracks (how she hadn’t been found out for that was beyond anyone except her). Everyone had something.

Maybe that was what got them through the hard things.

But Aspect was just Aspect.

“Daydreaming again?” Ink asked over Fire Squad’s comm channel.

“Ah, shut up, Ink,” Aspect retorted, refocusing on the battle. _Daydreaming will get you killed_. If only he could remember that when he needed to.

In front of him was a line of the General and the Commander, flanked by Slugger and the captains of the companies in the 82nd. They were just barely holding off another onslaught of droids; this campaign had been going on far longer than anyone had anticipated, and even General Fisto and Commander Srammetyw were struggling to keep up.

“Sergeant Aspect!” Slugger called. He had access to every channel in the company, down to the individual squads and even one-on-one channels.

“Captain, sir!” Aspect called back. He lifted his Deece and hit a droid square in the central processor.

“I have a project for you and your three best!”

“Love when you say that, Cap.” Aspect turned and gestured to Fire Squad. “Ink, Blondie, Greenley. You’re with me. Blue, if you could keep everyone else out of trouble, I’d sure appreciate it.”

Aspect knew the exact grin he could expect behind Blue’s helmet when she turned to him and called, “Yes, sir! Be safe out there!”

Aspect didn’t look to see if Ink, Blondie, and Greenley were following him until he had already collapsed behind the cover Slugger had found for them. He trusted, though, that they were there: he had grown up with Blondie; Ink was still young enough to be eager; and as unfortunate as it was, Greenley had abandonment issues after a disaster under his last command and was always close to Aspect.

“What d’you got for us, Captain?” Aspect asked, watching out of the corner of his HUD as Greenley dodged a stray shot from the droids and landed beside him.

“Command has reason to believe there’s a droid foundry on this planet. General Fisto thinks it’s why we keep getting ambushed; we destroy ‘em, and then they go and make more. I need you four to find that factory and take it out. The problem is, we have no recon, only a set of coordinates that might not even be accurate.”

“Minimal reconnaissance, maximum destruction,” Ink said. He nudged Blondie. “That’s us.”

Slugger looked up at Ink. “Just what I like to hear.” He turned back to Aspect. “I’ll send the coordinates to you. _Jate’kara_ , brothers.”

Aspect grabbed the back of Slugger’s helmet and pressed their foreheads together. “ _K’oyacyi, ner vod_.”

The half-squad split off from Slugger and out from behind their cover so Aspect could lead them, sneaking away, into the darkness of the oncoming night.

:::

Aspect’s joints ached and his eyelids threatened to slip shut every few minutes. Slugger’s coordinates had not been perfect, but they had been close enough that Aspect’s half-squad didn’t have to go far to find it. Now, the four of them lay in a natural indentation in the soil and watched the droid patrols go by.

“They’re too close together for us to do anything,” Ink muttered, the hint of complaint in his tone.

“Can’t take ‘em down,” Greenley argued. His voice was gruff as it always was, the result of smoke inhalation once upon a time. “They’ll lock onto our position.”

“We have to do something.” Blondie fidgeted with the safety of his blaster as he spoke, a nasty habit he had picked up from he and Aspect’s bounty hunting instructor on Kamino.

Though they were some of Aspect’s closest friends, barring only Slugger and the Commander, Ink, Blondie, and Greenley often found themselves in arguments; normally, it was Blondie and Ink against Greenley, which Aspect hoped he could eventually put an end to. The sound of bickering quickly became background noise to him, though, used to it as he was, and he watched the patrols closely.

There was something about them.

The clones had been engineered to be near-perfect human war machines. Their brains could recognize patterns better than most natborns. But Aspect’s pattern recognition was beyond even that of most of his brothers’, and it took less than a minute of paying more attention to the patrols than his squad to figure out what had caught his attention.

“Sync up your chronos,” he ordered.

“We did that at the beginning of the campaign,” Ink protested, obviously confused.

“We do that at the beginning of every campaign,” Blondie tacked on.

“They don’t stay synced up, though,” Greenley pointed out.

“Exactly.” Aspect looked up, watched the next group of droids round the corner of the factory, then looked down at his own chrono. “Oh-two-fifteen and zero seconds in three… two… one.”

All four of them synchronized their chronometers, and then Aspect watched the droid patrols again. He knew the others were doing the same, because Blondie and Ink had stopped picking on Greenley.

Greenley recognized it first, a soft, scratchy-sounding, “Oh,” escaping from his throat almost unbidden. Glancing periodically between his chrono and the droids--Aspect could tell from the small display in his HUD that showed what each of his squadmates was seeing--he saw the same pattern Aspect had.

Blondie and Ink got it only about fifteen seconds apart. Blondie slammed his hand down in the dust when he recognized what Aspect already knew, and Ink turned to look at the other three when he realized it.

“Fifteen seconds between patrols seems like enough time for you two to plant some charges,” Aspect said nonchalantly, pointing to Greenley and Ink as soon as they all, thankfully, understood.

“Long as we get a little closer for our starting point, Sarge,” Greenley replied.

“I know the perfect spot, and Blondie and I will cover you.” Between one patrol rounding the corner and the next, Aspect pulled himself to standing and dashed up to another dip in the ground. One at a time, the others followed suit.

Another droid patrol came from the hidden side of the building, and as soon as they passed where the clones were lying in the dirt, Aspect signaled Greenley and Ink forward. While Blondie lifted his rifle to the rim of their little hiding spot, they sprinted along the wall, planting explosives along the bottom edge, and just when Aspect was concerned they weren’t going to leave when they needed to, they made the mad run back to their hole.

“Now we just need to get the rest of the building,” Blondie said, his Deece still aimed over the edge of the hole.

“Nah,” Greenley said, voice thicker than normal with adrenaline. “We used some charges I designed specifically to aim the blast through the building.”

“This better work,” Ink panted.

Greenley lifted his hand and pressed his finger against the detonator.

“Wait, what if it--!?”

There was that awful moment before the sound and light suppressors in their helmets kicked in, where everything was louder and brighter than it needed to be, and then they watched. Aspect, for one, was in absolute awe at Greenley’s ability to design explosives; though there was heat, and fire, and a whole lot of noise, the charges did exactly what Greenley had said. The factory was small enough that the explosion tore straight through, all the energy directed one way.

There wouldn’t be any more droids going after their brothers this campaign.

:::

“Aspect!” Tapper exclaimed. “Thank the Force you’re back.”

Aspect, Ink, Blondie, and Greenley, a little sooty but no worse for wear, exchanged glances.

“Tapper, what’s wrong?”

“Droids had a self-destruct sequence,” Blue said, running up to them. “You blew up the factory. They blew up our position. It’s chaos, we need everyone available.” She hugged each returning brother, and Aspect hugged her back, then she turned and ran back into the mess of people.

Aspect could see what his sister meant now. A makeshift camp had been set up, with all uninjured clones--including, perhaps especially, non-medics--running triage and first aid.

He turned to Tapper. “Have you called in evac yet?”

“No,” Tapper replied. He shook his head vigorously.

Aspect waved Ink, Blondie, and Greenley away to help, though he was sure Greenley wouldn’t actually leave. “Why not?” he asked, more sternly.

Tapper shrunk back marginally. “No one… no one thought about it.”

Aspect sighed, and blinked back tears. If the droids had self-destructed right after the foundry blew up, the wait could spell bad news for the most critically injured. “Okay,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Tapper, I want you to call for medevac. This is no environment for the wounded.” He turned to Greenley. “I need you to check on Rust and Copper. We came in with fewer medics than normal, and despite the help they’re getting, I’m certain they’re overwhelmed. I know you have medical training. Convince one of them to rest, and fill in.”

“What are you going to do?” Greenley asked. He and Aspect both jogged into the fray.

“Figure out why no one called for an evac, first of all. After that, I don’t know.” He peeled off toward the front of the encampment and searched for Tag’onk. “Tag! Where are Slugger and the General?”

Tag’onk, who wasn’t wearing his helmet, frowned. “General Fisto is critical, Aspect. Rust has shinies watching him around the chrono. Ordered them to comm him if there were any changes.”

“Glad he’s on top of things.” Aspect lowered his voice. “And Nil’ika?”

Here, Tag’onk smiled. The original members of the 82nd had unofficially adopted Commander Srammetyw, although a few of them had recited genuine Mandalorian adoption vows in secret. “She’s down for the count, but she’ll be fine. Pretty bad break in one leg and a nice concussion, but she’ll heal pretty quickly, especially with that Force of hers.”

Aspect felt relief flood him for the briefest of moments before he realized. “You didn’t tell me about Slugger.”

Tag’onk’s face crumpled. “Died on impact,” he said, voice more soft and broken than Aspect had ever heard it. “Him and the other captains, and a few… a few lieutenants..”

Aspect nodded slowly. He understood, now, he understood--

Tag’onk caught him when he fell forward, trying desperately not to sob in front of the men.

Medevac was only a blur.

:::

“Aspect?” Commander Srammetyw called through the door to the barracks.

“Yes, Commander.” He sniffed and wiped away a tear, then two, before sliding his helmet over his head and opening the door.

She stood on crutches next to the keypad, and smiled sympathetically at him. “Do you need anything?” she asked.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” he choked. “I’m not ready to pretend I can take his place.”

“You don’t have to take his place,” the Commander said softly, turning awkwardly away and limping down the corridor. “You’re not Slugger. You’re Aspect. Be Captain Aspect. Don’t try to be Captain Slugger.”

Despite the limitations to her movement, it took a moment for Aspect to catch up to Commander Srammetyw. When he did, she paused again and held out her fist to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, even as he cupped his hands beneath hers.

She dropped the small object into his hand. “Slugger’s armor tags. It’s part of Mandalorian funeral rites, isn’t it?”

He felt the gentle smile tugging at his lips even as his eyes threatened to well with tears again. “It is. We clones don’t normally get a chance to collect them, though.” He reached out tentatively, and when she didn’t pull back he wrapped his arms around the Commander. “Thank you,” he murmured.

In the mostly-empty cargo hold of the _Traverser_ , the 127 men left of Ragged Company met together, with Commander Srammetyw and General Fisto looking on from a distance. They stood together in a circle, and Aspect, who had a habit of taking charge, stepped forward.

“ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la_ ,” he began. Then, as one, the rest of Ragged joined: “ _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum_.”

“Slugger.”

“Nuhun.”

“Berserker.”

“Draft.”

“Aurek.”

“Craft.”

“Ten.”

“Angel.”

“Ori.”

“Chin-ups.”

“Tablet.”

“See-Tee-Fifty-Two-Twenty-Five.”

“Ka’ra.”

“See-Tee-Thirty-Eight-Twenty-Eight.”

“Tracker.”

“Ace.”

“Loudmouth.”

With each name, more voices cracked, and a few even dropped out for a moment. Tonight, in their individual remembrances, they would give more names here, honor all their dead _vode_ ; but for now, this was a memorial to those who had died on this campaign.

Aspect heaved a great sigh, and avoiding any further ado, any more chances for his anxiety to get the better of him, he gestured to the Commander and the General.

General Fisto, repulsor-chair bound and looking more exhausted than Aspect had ever seen him, still found it in himself to smile. “Surprisingly,” he began, “there is not a very formal way to do this. I have been impressed with Sergeant Aspect’s leadership abilities in the midst of a crisis, and even more impressed with his kindness and gentleness in any situation, and will be promoting him to the rank of Captain. Apparently, I can do that,” he added with that sharp-toothed grin that unsettled rookies and warmed the hearts of veterans. “When our ranks are again filled, I will leave it to him to organize Ragged Company as he sees fit. Listen to him as you would Captain Slugger.”

With that, he turned around, and Commander Srammetyw followed after him, shooting one last grin over her shoulder at the remaining men of Ragged.

Despite himself, Aspect waved. Then he turned toward Ragged Company.

“Blondie,” he called, “let’s paint some armor.”


End file.
